


Transient Moments

by PuzlDragon



Series: Life Transitions [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Atem Has Some Things He Needs To Heal From, Atem Needs Hugs, Chocolate, Comedy, Dorks in Love, Fluffy, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Menstruation, No matter how bad it gets, Remember, Trans Atem, Trans Male Character, Trans Mutou Yuugi, Transphobia mentioned, Yami Yuugi | Atem Has His Own Body, Yuugi Is A Sweetheart, Yuugi Provides, it's gonna be okay, mention of miscarriage, misogyny mentioned, very light mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24156712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzlDragon/pseuds/PuzlDragon
Summary: This is the story of two dorky trans boys on the cusp of adulthood. Discovering who they are, the answers to life challenges, and love along the way.Yes, the title is a pun.
Relationships: Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi | Atem
Series: Life Transitions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749964
Comments: 26
Kudos: 24





	1. Nightly Gift (Thanks, I Hate It)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Let's do hurt/comfort.  
> My brain: Angst/comedy, got it.  
> Me: uM.

When Atem was allowed to live a full life as reward, he was kind of hoping for a body. A new one that is. Or, perhaps this was new. His other one did get vaporized by magic.

Point is, Atem was hoping for a different body. Not one restored by the gods, or a mirror image of it. One that actually was like him. But perhaps that is his folly. He has already been revived from death. And three millennia after it, to be in fact. There isn't even any temples of his gods still intact. Atem should be grateful. More grateful than he is. And he loves this idea of living a full life alongside his found family.

But right now, Atem stands before the full length mirror in the guest room of the Mutou house. The warm, soft lamp light reveals Atem's pallid brow is covered with sweat. He's panting. He feels like he has lava for organs. He wishes to remove the rough baggy shirt grating against his skin, but he dares not. His stomach is bloated, and his insides twist in agony. Bile sits cloyingly in the back of his mouth.

But the telling factor, the absolute shame in all this, is Atem's borrowed pajama pants. The little Kuribohs are engulfed with blooming red. Clammy, grimy red encases his skin. His front, his back, all the way down his thighs. Atem cannot confront this, he cannot fight it, he cannot stop it.

He does not have Mahaad's nausea potions. He does not have Isis's understanding, and forbidden tea herbs smuggled to him to prevent this. He does not have Seth screaming treason at every one who dares mention this time in hearing distance of his big, elephant ears. Not Mana distracting and hugging him. Not his father, and mother. They loved him so. Told him he was what the gods had made his soul. Gone, long before the others.

Not even Grandpa Sugoroku, so similar to Siamun, will shout about eternal shame for saying rumors about the prince, and king. All of these things he took comfort in, either openly, or secretly are gone.

Atem is alone, in pants blooming red. The sheets behind him are stained. His body doesn't feel like his. Crying is beneath him.

He cries anyway.

He tries to stifle the noises, hunching over, shoving extra shirt fabric in his mouth. His body shakes. Attempted heaves to push out his aching stomach combine with struggles to keep it in, as well as well as sobs that make him struggle to breathe. Tears, and saliva, and mucus filthy the shirt. It soaks under his fingers, in his mouth. Tears, sweat, and blood in a way he does not appreciate. Grime, and crust along his skin. His hair dampens as it drags across his eyes. His forehead. The back of his neck. It hangs limply, adhering to his skin.

And he struggles to breathe. Breathe out, try to breathe in, shake. Again, and again. He takes great gulps, but air can't reach his shivering lungs. He doesn't even know if he's making noises. He doesn't know how he ended up on the floor. But it is hard against his sore eyes. He lays there, hiccuping, gasping, sobbing, heaving, and wincing with pain. He rocks himself, slowly. Trying to sooth himself somehow. He can't even see anymore. The tears make strange shapes of everything. The drenched curls in his face make deciphering attemptless. He closes his eyes.

He has been strong for three millennia.

Three millennia, trapped in endless confusion, pain and anger as he battled with part of a festering demon's soul. Or whatever it had for one. And Atem has struggled. He has endured. He has defeated criminals, rescued lives, and saved the world. Multiple times. Each. And he has been granted new life, repayment for his long, bitter tasks. Yet the night he arrives in his new home, this crashes upon him. Gone is ideas of valiant heroes. He is just a boy. A boy who is out of place, once again. A boy out of place, out of time. This body isn't his. He has never had a body that is his, no matter what anyone else says.

And it rebels against him.

Eventually, he loses control of his stomach as well. Bile spews from his mouth upon the cool hard wood. His mouth, already foggy with morning breath, now burns with the stink. He gags, and gags some more. And even more comes up.

He wonders, idly, if this would have been fixed if he just went on to the field of reeds. If his reward could have been a body that was his. Perhaps, this is his lesson. His cost. That to come back like a spirit never should, he should pay the price. And it isn't just this moment. Not just the pain that racks his stomach, not the fever that accompanies it. Not the nausea, nor the sweat. Not even the feeling of uncleanness that takes over his whole body. He has to face this.

He has to explain this to Yuugi. To his new family. To his friends. He has to see the looks on their faces. Even as they accept him, that look of dawning comprehension. The way they come to understand he is not a true man. Will they be mad he didn't tell him before? He had amnesia! Blissful amnesia. And his idea of a body was vague, and undetailed. And it wasn't even his own.

But it hardly matters.

A secret kept because of mistakes is still a secret kept. He wonders which friends will turn from him. Like all the friends he had made as a child when his father and mother let him dress like how he felt. Act like how he felt. The people who refused to call him anything but she. The people who called him from that name. And then the people who only called him his masculine childhood name because of fear of punishment.

But he is far away from the protection of his father.

Far away from the millennium court who was there every step of the way. There when he was eleven. When he, still drowning in grief, took the throne. When he was twelve and this red tide first came, and he had no parents, or distant family to walk him through it. The family that formed around him in his youthful need. And he is gone from all of them.

He is without them, and their reassurance, their kindness, and trust. He is without them. Left alone with only the pain, and memories.

Without Seth, and Mana, and Siamun to yell louder than the whispers, it is just the whispers. His memories seem to have come back to him equally. Memories from his childhood, and his youth are both clear and crisp. There is no order, nor importance to how his brain has sorted them. And it gives his scheming mind a lot of goods to work with.

That he is a liar, only trying to seem a man to keep the throne. That his soul, who he was, is all a scheme. A deception. That he has only fooled himself. That he is a liar. A weakling who is unfit to lead anything, but children. Some said it was all started by his parents. Lies, and confusion dropped in his young ears so they could hide their shame of not bearing a living son. Not that he was even good for the family line. Every required attempt met with wither a barren room. Or those two, terrible times that didn't even last three moons.

All those years of exercising constantly. Mimicking the posture of his father, and the men around him. Trying to walk like they did, talk like they did. Trying to gain muscle, and even more muscle. The utter confidence he wore like a robe, no matter how he felt inside. No matter what he did, everyone always thought of him as a cheap fake.

He sits there. Rocking back and forth. Covered in his own sick, his own tide. The carpet pattern burns against his skin. His clothes stick to him, clammy, and gluey. The whispers pound in his head. He doubts himself.

Is this even real? Is this wrongness that he feels about himself all fake? All a lie? Is it his fault? Is it the fault of his parents? Their loving demeanors actually fronts for disappointment, and scheming lies? Is this illness of his, this other realty if his body that he feels nothing at all? He looks down. His body doesn't match what his brain says is there. There is but flatness where there shouldn't be. Curves where there shouldn't be. And blood. How could this wrongness of his brain be faked. He sees it before him himself.

He closes his eyes. He reaches down.

What his brain says is there, this phantom feeling of existence is erased as his hand passes through it. Nothing where there should be mass. He feels a new wave of nausea for a different reason. There's blood. Blood everywhere. Blood on his hands, on his legs, on his shirt. Blood in a sensitive, private place where something should be but isn't. He gags again.

"Hey, Atem we found the waffle maker-Atem!?" Shouts Yuugi's voice. Oh no. Oh no. Atem looks down at Yuugi's pajama pants. His favorite ones. The ones Atem has ruined. He starts crying again. Why does he cry over everything like this.

"Atem, where are you hurt?! Hang on, okay." Yuugi falls down beside him. Half in the puddle of puke. Yuugi grabs his arm. The one he had tried, in vain, to reaffirm his manliness with. " Oh, gosh, there's blood everywhere, oh no." Yuugi looks like he's about to hyperventilate. Yuugi shouldn't be feeling bad about this. Atem opens his mouth.

"I'm sorry about the pants." Shit.

"What?!" Yuugi exclaims. He looks like he's about to start crying. Shit. Shit in the Nile. Yuugi waves his hand around. "You're hurt, and bleeding out! Why do I care about pants?!"

"...They're your favorite?" Atem offers. There is a quiet pause between them. It stretches out, making the small gap between seem enormous.

"Atem. We own a sewing machine, and a clothes washer. Last I checked, I can't put you through either of those," Yuugi says blandly. Atem cracks a small, chagrined smile.

"You could, I just doubt it would be pleasant on my end." Yuugi snorts, and shakes his head.

"Well, you can't be hurt too badly if you're making jokes. Where are you bleeding." Atem pauses. Shit. No more stalling. He tries to figure out what to say.

"It's my moonly bleeding." Yuugi stares at him in alarm.

"Your _what._ " Atem racks his brain. He vaguely recalls something Anzu said, once. He takes a deep breath. Prepares for the shame. For the confusion. The questions. Maybe anger, or disgust. But he doesn't think there's any preparing for this. Not from his best friend. Not from Yuugi. Not his partner. He squeezes his eyes shut, so he doesn't have to see that look on Yuugi's face when he understands. Atem lets himself be a coward, just this once.

"It's my... period. I think you call it now." He braces for arms wrapped around him to drop him. For a flurry of speaking.

Yuugi lets out a sigh of relief. What. Atem opens his eyes. Yuugi is looking far more relaxed.

"Your shark week, huh? Yours must be really bad. Can you walk? I'll help you to the bathroom, okay? And I'll get some painkillers." Yuugi pauses as he glances down. "And maybe a nausea pill." Sharks???

And sure enough, the teeny thin twig that is Yuugi is deceptively strong as he helps a befuddled Atem walk down the hallway. Atem motions to let him try to clean up at the toliet. Yuugi looks at his soaked figure.

"Unless this is you trying to be discrete about needing to pee, I don't think toliet paper is going to help you. You look like you stumbled out of one of Ryou's horror films." Atem looks down at himself, trying to see what Yuugi sees.

Atem sees a murder attempt survivor. There is blood on both his hands, it's dripped down his arm, blood soaking his crotch, and blood streaked down most of his thighs. He's spread blood all down his shirt. Somehow.

"Ah."

"Besides, hot water helps anyway. I'll get you painkillers!" And Atem gets shoved into the shower. For a moment he hesitates.

Not on any account of nudity itself. To him, the naked body isn't a scandal. Nor is it on part of Yuugi. Yes, he has been in his friend's head and happens to know exactly how much Yuugi thinks about sex. And his porn collection. By Obelisk's fists. But Yuugi getting a glimpse for his spank bank isn't what concerns him either. He is not the kind to take advantage. And every bit of Yuugi is radiating concern, and understanding right now. Not even a hint of his naughty thoughts blush.

No, what shames Atem is the confirmation. The evidence that his body is incorrect. That part of him, a part so inherent to his existence, is lacking, and deficient. But he's covered with blood, tears, sweat, and bile. And he's got it on Yuugi. And the bathroom. And he's spreading it everywhere. So he gets in the tub.

And then Yuugi climbs on the edge of it. In his socks. He's wobbling back, and forth. He's also futilely batting at the shower curtain. Atem stops peeling the glued fabric off of his skin to stare at him.

"Yuugi, what...are you doing?"

"I've almost...ha...got it!" Yuugi crows in victory as he snatches the shower head. It says something about their height that he had to stand on his tiptoes. On the rim of the tub.

"See, if you turn it like this you can put it on pulse function," Atem stalls mentally for a second. He heard in one of Yuugi and Jou's raunchy shows exactly what the pulse function can be used for. Oh, by Ammit's innards, he does not want to have this conversation.

"And it can help you get gunk off faster, but what it's great for is the muscles! If you put the water on hot, and let it hit your back, it helps with cramps!" Yuugi gestures to his lower back with one hand. As he braces himself against the wall with his fingers. And stands on the rim of the tub. On his tip toes.

Yuugi goes down.

With him goes half the shower curtain, and he hits the dial mid-fall. They both get blasted in the face with freezing water. Atem, his pants half off, and Yuugi sprawled on the bottom on the tub, groaning, fully clothed. They both shriek. Yuugi's first instinct is to try to dark out of the tub, but he's in wet socks, and battling half a shower curtain.

It doesn't go well.

Atem, after a moment of confusion, tries to go for the water dial. But he's blinded, water in his still puffy eyes. And he has his pants around his legs. He falls over Yuugi. They both shout. They both reach for the dial. Their hands slap blindly, futilely, against the chilly, slippery tile. Eventually, one of them smacks it in the off position.

They lay there, in the standing water in the cramped bathtub. They are drenched, teeth chattering. Atem is half dressed, they are both covered in Atem's menstrual blood. And they feel utter relief at the freedom from the stinging jet. Atem smiles.

"Thanks, Yuugi."


	2. A Fall, and A Feast (Why Do They Keep Falling?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comfort, cuddles, and chocolate to the hurt. :D

The shower, despite it's colorful start, was not the difficult part. And that said something, after how this day started. No, the difficult part was wondering how he would ever look Yuugi in the face again. Because currently Yuugi had his leg propped up on the rim of the tub (luckily, only one leg this time). Yuugi was explaining how to stick a tampon up places where cotton should not be.

"Is this really the best method available for dealing with this issue?" Atem had asked.

"Well, how did you deal with it back then?"

"Magic."

"...Sorry, we're fresh out of that."

So Atem is in the nude, more or less, listening to this. The soft towel is so loose around him, it isn't doing anything. But he clutches it to his bosom. The cloth he normally wraps his chest in is drenched from their showerhead antics.

It's not like exposed chests bother him. Everyone in his time had bare chests. It's his exposed chest that bothers him. It is far too much a reminder of what is there that should not be, and vice versa. It's why he broke typical clothing traditions, and wore a tunic most of his life. An odd choice. A foreign choice. Yes, the fact he wore something different was a glaring omission, but it was better than the alternative. Besides, the fluffy material is comforting. Not even the finest cloth from his time could match this.

Yuugi wobbles. He stands in new, but still drenched socks, unbalanced on slippery tile and porcelain. Atem winces. 

"Perhaps, you could stand on the floor, partner?" Atem says. They are both lucky to not have concussions.

"But I have to show you! So you stand like this, or maybe you could crouch? People do different things. That's how you insert it-"

Crouching. Atem cannot say how he delights in toliets. Both for sanitation, and in just being able to sit. Crouching is something lowly, something associated with different, with his shame. Sitting on a toliet is something everyone does.

"Standing like that is fine," Atem spits out. Yuugi looks over, an indefinable look in his eyes. Then he smiles softly.

"All right. I know this is rough to adjust to. I know some people don't like sticking things up there. We have pads, too. This just prevents that grimy feel." Atem cringes internally. He doesn't want to seem ungrateful. He was privileged growing up. In many ways. Especially when it comes to who he was. Anyone of lesser status would have difficulty expressing their true self. Or worse. Even though Atem faced international judgment, he also could do what he wished. And, being so close to magicians, and priests allowed him comfort of herbs, and spells. Now he is without all of that. Yet, even now he is privileged. He is having modern comforts, and luxuries dropped right into his hands.

And Atem is complaining.

"No, this is all fine. I apologize. I am a very grateful for this, Yuugi." Yuugi's gaze is soft. Melted. Like on the inside of his exterior he is molten chocolate, sweet as can be. Atem is nude in his bathroom after bleeding over half his house, and Yuugi's clothing. He doesn't deserve it. Atem's heart melts anyway.

"Everyone just needs a hand sometimes, Atem. That's all." Yuugi's smile is so, so bright. Atem feels himself flush for reasons other than the fever. He feels like he is warm from the depths of his insides.

"So!" Yuugi says as he claps his hands once. You should probably try this before you start bleeding ot over the bathroom. Water only stops it so long, after all." Atem flushes worse.

"I - uh. Yes. Good plan."

So Atem ends up putting some plastic contraption up his privates as Yuugi encourages him, and comments. Atem thinks he would feel must more uncomfortable if Yuugi wasn't so supportive. But Atem still freezes up when a shooting pain radiates. He grits his teeth against it. He contemplates whether this is worth it. He has endured worse. Three millennia of confinement as a half-spirit. Still, he is not the type to choose an unnecessary hardship for no return. He wonders about these 'menstrual pads'. Then Yuugi speaks up.

'Ah! You're putting it in straight!" Atem pauses. What? Was he meant to put it in sideways? Atem doesn't think modern downstairs plumbing is that different from his. Then Yuugi starts gesturing with his hand. Well. Stabbing. He's stabbing the air diagonally.

"It doesn't point straight up! A vagina is crooked. It sort of...is tilted back." Atem has a vagina. He did not know this about vaginas. After a moment of consideration, Atem adjusts the angle of the plastic monstrosity. It moves in much smoother. Then he takes a moment to figure out the plunger. Or twenty. But sure enough, he can't feel it. Or any forming red grime. Success. He turns around to smile at an earnestly beaming Yuugi. Yuugi then snatches a bottle of painkillers, and rambles. Atem understands none of it. Modern pharmacology is lost on him. Even popular knowledge.

"See, Ibuprofen is better to take because it slows down the cramping hormone! You can take other painkillers, but NSAIDs are the best for cramps," Yuugi starts.

Hormones. NSAIDs. Ibuprofen. All Atem knows is pill capsule goes in mouth. Hormones are a body thing. And apparently this one is for cramps. And he learned that twenty seconds ago. This isn't even Greek to him. He knows Greek. Or...ancient Greek. Atem does not say this. What Atem says is thank you. He smiles. Yuugi smiles back.

Then Atem learns swallowing pills is harder than it looks. He ruins four pills by gagging them up. Putting them in different parts of his mouth does not work. Chugging a glass of water while they are in his mouth leads to gagging, and a sour taste. Eventually, Yuugi kindly pulls out a jar of peanut butter.

On the bright side, Atem likes peanut butter. Atem gets dressed in more gathered pajamas as he rubs his sore throat, and stomach.

"I got out my winter ones. Mama special ordered them in my size. Fluffy makes everything better." Atem has had them on for twelve seconds.

He concurs.

Then Yuugi is bundling him- there's really no other word for it - in the brightest yellow blanket there is. Atem is then led back to Yuugi's room. Yuugi then proceeds to tear his closet to bits. Hats, shirts, shoes, all get thrown into the air. A sock flies so far up it hits the skylight. It goes so fast, the smack is impressive. Especially for a pastel, cartooned sock. Yuugi doesn't even keep socks in his closet. Atem isn't sure what to say. Or do. Atem has seen battlefields less chaotic.

"Where- I thought! Agh. Maybe? No, not there. Hng." Then Yuugi jumps up, his feet making a thud against the carpeted floor. Ouch.

"I'llberightback!" He shouts. Then he imitates the blue roadrunner in that American cartoon. Atem sits down gingerly on Yuugi's chair. Might as well sit while he waits for this to pass.

A door slams open. There is more sounds of chaos. Sharp bangs that rattle the walls. Atem reconsiders. Maybe he should investigate. Maybe intervene. He slowly creaks the door open. He peers down the dimly lit hall. He blinks as his eyes readjust. Yuugi hadn't even turned the light on. There, in front of the hallway closet, Yuugi sits.

Atem can't recall ever being present when the hallway closet was opened. Filled with concern, he approaches the hunched over, muttering Yuugi. A box gets slid halfway down the hallway floor like a bullet. It slams into the wall. Atem jumps. When nothing more speeds his way, he approaches once more. Cautiously. When he is close enough, he leans over. Around Yuugi is a heap of disheveled blankets, the tossed contents of a sewing kit, and an opened toolbox. Yuugi jerks back with raised arms. Atem leaps back to avoid being smacked in the face. His foot lands on something. It gives. Atem bangs onto the floor.

"Ahh!" Atem has been through more. Atem has been through worse.

He sniffles. He hates these times. He hates his teary eyes.

"Atem!" Yuugi shouts. Yuugi shuffles his knees until he is by his side. His pants make a soft grating sound against the carpet. Yuugi pets back Atem's still damp curls. "Are you okay?" Yuugi's eyes are so, so soft. Atem breaks into tears.

"I'm- I'm fine." It's not very convincing. Yuugi nods, anyway.

"I found the heating pad. Let's go back," Yuugi says tenderly. His touch is tender, too. He helps Atem up. They shuffle down the hall, pressed closer than needed.

At Yuugi's insistence, Atem crawls under Yuugi's duvet. It feels like a cloud. A maroon cloud. The 'heating pad' gets thrown across his lap. A lukewarm compress over his forehead. Yuugi's gameboy, television remote, and a book of crosswords gets laid by his side.

"I'll be right back!" Yuugi chirps excitedly. In the minute he is gone, Atem discovers he likes heating pads. A lot. Knotted muscles stop their assault on his gut, and he finally feels the embrace of relaxation. He turns on the television. With curiosity, he settle on the cheerful hum of a family show. He laughs at the slapstick gags.

Yuugi darts back into the room, tripping over his own socks. Atem sits up. He hardly wants Yuugi hurt. Or his beloved baby blue carpet to bear ruin. But Yuugi pops back up a second later. He holds the food tray over his head as an athlete might hold a trophy.

"I got it!" He shouts, loud enough to wake a bird on the windowsill. Atem laughs.

"And what is it?"

"Chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate!" Yuugi chirps again. He sets the tray on Atem's lap as if it was the most fragile thing on earth. And upon it is indeed chocolate. Chocolate chip cookies, and chocolate ice cream with things in it. It's not even in a bowl. Yuugi just plopped half a gallon on the tray. For drinks there is something that Yuugi's shared knowledge whispers as 'hot chocolate'. Atem isn't sure what craving prompted this feast, but he's glad.

He recalls trying chocolate once. It was a time when he blended his consciousness with Yuugi's. He had liked it well enough, for as much as he was able. His sensory abilities were dulled, even when possessing Yuugi. Now every taste, and smell flowers around him. Touches embrace him, colors blossom. Yuugi slides in next to him. A familiar warmth. The one most familiar. They share a soft smile, even as Atem quirks a puzzled eyebrow.

"Are your cravings themed, now?" He teases. Yuugi huffs.

"Trust me. And if you really don't want it, more for me." Atem obligingly picks up a warm, gooey cookie. He puts a corner in his mouth.

He swears to as many gods in his pantheon as he can. As he is able to before he shoves the whole cookie in his mouth. He is tearing up again, tears rolling once again down his face. He swears once more. He looks to Yuugi, the solid, warm comfort besides him. Yuugi is just nodding like a sage master in some cheap budget martial arts film. He's even folded his hands together, and done his best to cover them with his pajama sleeves.

"And now you understand the ways of chocolate."

"Shush. And help me eat this," Atem says around a mouthful of gooiness. His mother would be ashamed. His mother is not here right now. Right now there is just Atem, Yuugi, and chocolate. Yuugi accepts the spoon Atem hands him gratefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> -Short comments  
> -Long comments  
> -Questions  
> -Constructive criticism  
> -“<3” as extra kudos  
> -Reader-reader interaction  
> LLF Comment Builder  
> This author replies to comments.  
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sharks are actually amazing! And they don't really attack humans, unless threatened. Or, in the great white's case, think you're a seal. And cookie cutter sharks are named after the perfect circle bites they inflict. Sometimes they go after boats because they think it's a whale! 🐋🐳 Sharks are amazing and important parts of the world's seas. 🦈
> 
> Unfortunately, I wrote this from Atem's viewpoint, and he would be very biased from only seeing frightening special effects, and media.
> 
> This is small, and not what I meant to write. And nothing else will fit in with this oddity, but now Atem knows about sharks. Please enjoy these goofballs.

The two of them chow down on chocolate like it was necessary for life. Right now, for Atem, it might be. The blankets are soft on his sensitive skin, the low hum of the cartoons is a bliss to his anxiety, and he has his favorite person in the world hugging him. Oh, and heating pads, and ibuprofen are blessings from the gods.

Somehow, they scrape the icecream bowl clean before it melts. Fudge is a delight. Cartoons are a delight. Yuugi painting their faces with melted chocolate is a delight. And a mess. Atem ignores all social rules with Yuugi. Today is not a day for rules. Like not crying. Or not eating too many sweets. Or not eating in bed. Today is for cuddles, crying, and super-deluxe-caramel-fudge-fox-bite-swirl.

Atem has never had a bleeding day like this. He's held back tears by pushing them down into a numb, cold part of his gut. Trained himself to not flinch at gut-surging pain by magically cursing himself until he could ignore it. Ignoring the rising sense of wrongness, and disgust at his body was a different matter. But he managed it. The comfort, and care by his closest court was limited by rules. By rules, and expectations, and propriety.

Not with Yuugi.

There hasn't been his court for millennia. Instead of feeling sad about it, like normal, he shall use this day to celebrate it. Celebrate by painting little chocolate whispers on Yuugi's face with caramel. And cuddles. Even rare embraces, like from Mana, had manners. And Mana only got away with it because she was a child. Yuugi can just hang onto Atem like an octopus. A capuchin monkey. A barnacle. There's caramel smearing in his hair from where Yuugi is nuzzling his face. He is squeezing him so hard, it's hard to breathe. They're both sweaty from being so close under the quilts.

Atem is smiling like a marshmallon.  
"Yuugi? What is that thing you were saying about sharks?" Atem says as it comes to mind.

"Hm? Oh, in America they have a week where they have shows all about sharks. And a monthly lasts for about a week. And it's like. You can say there's chum in the water, or the sharks are bitey today. Just a bunch of metaphors without having to say something." Yuugi releases Atem to make air quotes with his fingers. "Especially not 'mother nature's gift', or 'a woman's time', or 'feminine hygiene', or whatever else." Atem hums. What a useful metaphor. The Americans actually did something good.

"Yuugi...what's a shark?" Yuugi looks at him in shock.

"Oh! You have to learn about sharks. They're these giant fish! Well some of them. Some are tiny. And they have big teeth! They eat other fish, but sometimes when the eggs hatch, one will eat all the other shark babies. They usually ignore humans, but sometimes the big ones think humans with flippers on are seals and try to bite them. But normally they are really cool! They can smell blood from forever away! There's this big fin. There's all these movies, and-," Yuugi rambles.

Atem still doesn't know what a shark looks like. Or is. But they can smell blood. And eat each other. And bite humans. If they are on surfboards and wear flippers. Atem doesn't know what those are either. The amount of knowledge he shared with Yuugi seems limited to what they actually discussed or used as they shared a body. Which didn't include sharks. Which sound terrifying. Then Yuugi decides Atem needs to see a movie called 'Sharknado'. Atem doesn't know what the 'nado' is from.

Atem does not like Sharknado. Or sharks. Or cyclones. He likes none of them, at all. He especially does not like watching a man get swallowed by a shark, only to burst out of it with a chainsaw. He knows nothing of sharks, but he does not think the work like that. Oh, he also hates modern gore special effects. Yuugi tries to help his opinion with documentaries.

Atem has grown up to have a healthy respect of things that might eat you. Or poison you. Or cause you to drown. Or die of dehydration, or sun exposure. You had to, in Kemet.

So seeing a shark with very large teeth devour a bucket of fish does not help him like sharks. No, Yuugi. Seeing teeny, tiny sharks will not change his opinion. They can apparently cause a ship to take on water by eating a hole in a _hull of metal._

Ships taking on water can sink, Yuugi. People drown in sinking ships. Then there's someone who sits in a small metal cage while a shark attacks it. The sounds of clanks, and shouts as the man panics (thankfully uninjured) makes Atem's heart race. Idly, he wonders if it looks like a jailcell because it used to be a legal punishment. Atem thinks it would deter crime effectively. All in all, Atem now agrees shark week is a perfect metaphor for periods.

On an unrelated matter, Atem has a phobia of hippos, and sharks.

The sound of Yuugi's mom coming home ends his deliberation of whether a hippo, or a great white would win a fight.

"I'm home! Boys, can you come down? I'd like some help with dinner- what in the _world_ happened to the hallway closet?!?!" Atem, and Yuugi turned to each other. They looked at each other wide-eyed.

"Uh-oh," Yuugi says. They dart out of bed, tangling up in the quilt, and each other's limbs. They don't step out of the bed as much as fall out of it. Then they wrestle their legs out of their billowy net. Trying to open the door with four hands sounds like it should be easier. It is not. They stand there in the hallway, looking at her. She jerks her head up at their shambolic entrance.

"What in the world happened to you two?!" Yuugi, and Atem to turn to each other. They have pillow creaselines on their cheeks, their hair is unkept, their fluffy pajamas are in disarray, and it's all topped off with icecream smears for face, and fingerpaint.

"Uh," Atem says coherently.

"We were trying to find the heating pad!" Yuugi chirps, a question behind. She shakes her head.

"Nevermind, I don't want to know. Cleanup, and clean this up. Then help me make dinner." She turns, and walks to the stairs. "Boys..." she grumbles under her breath.

They turn to each other. They burst out in giggles.

"Boys!" She echoes louder from down the stairs. Atem smiles. Maybe breaking propriety is a good idea sometimes, even with parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> -Short comments  
> -Long comments  
> -Questions  
> -Constructive criticism  
> -“<3” as extra kudos  
> -Reader-reader interaction  
> LLF Comment Builder  
> This author replies to comments.  
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> -Short comments  
> -Long comments  
> -Questions  
> -Constructive criticism  
> -“<3” as extra kudos  
> -Reader-reader interaction  
> LLF Comment Builder  
> This author replies to comments.  
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


End file.
